


A City Girl Like You

by Roaming_Writer



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24937342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roaming_Writer/pseuds/Roaming_Writer
Summary: Life isn't a fairy tale, but sometimes it might feel like it. After a fateful day, Rapunzel couldn't help but fall for a man she hardly knew. Will their love stand the test of time and broken hearts?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my stories imported from fanfiction.net :  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/~roamingwriter
> 
> Check out my FF.net account for the rest of my work!

My train to Salt Lake City was only 15 minutes away, but it felt like an eternity. After all, I don’t remember the last time I actually showered since New York City. It was pretty hot too, and I felt my hair and camisole top cling to my body. I tried to concentrate on something else, maybe think about what my friend’s new house was like. 

The only reason I went all the way across the country was to visit Cassandra, one of my oldest friends, who moved to Utah for a job. Plus, it was summer so what else was I going to do anyway? 

The announcements blared: _Train from Denver to Salt Lake City will arrive soon at terminal 5_

Finally, no more waiting in this wretched heat. I could almost feel the air-conditioned train. Again, I tried to distract myself, and I started to notice the people around me. There were a bunch of girls my age, but they seemed to always come with a guy hand-in-hand. Well, everyone except me of course. “You’re just a late bloomer,” my mother would tell me. “You just gotta find the right guy,” my friends would say. 

I chuckled at these thoughts. After all, this wasn’t a fairytale, and love like that doesn’t just _happen._

Out of the corner of my eye, a suspicious man inched closer to me. He had grey hair, a beard, and was slightly obese. His eyes seemed to dart erratically and he seemed to mumble incoherently to himself. _Not the kind of guy I’m looking for._

I reached for my suitcase, trying to back away from him, and lo and behold, he managed to grab hold of my suitcase and off he ran. 

_Crap!_ I tried to run after him, but he was surprisingly swift for his build. “Help!” I cried out, still trying to pursue the thief, but it was no use. He was already a good 10 feet ahead of me. 

The worst-case scenarios were running through my head. My clothes, my food, my laptop, and some of my cash was in that suitcase. Ughh, why do these things happen to _me?_

I almost gave up, but out of nowhere, I saw a brown-haired man running to pursue the thief. He was fast and caught up to the runner, tackling him. I ran up to the two men as they exchanged a few blows. There were yelling and punching, and overall, it was not pretty. 

“Hey! Stop fighting,” I pleaded, as I reached the quarrel, hoping that no one was hurt. 

But before anything got too rough, security guards rushed in. 

“Hey, what’s going on here?” one of the guards questioned. 

The brown-haired stranger looked at me and smiled. “Uh, officer I was just helping my sister here,” he gestured at me. “I was helping her get her suitcase back from this thief,” he pointed to the older man who still laid on the floor. 

The two security members escorted the man away as he struggled, drawing attention from a lot of passerby’s.

“Hey, you alright?” He looked at me and I felt my heart flutter. His eyes were a light shade of brown. His smile, so warm and reassuring. He picked up my suitcase and placed it in front of me as if it weighed nothing. He had a medium-sized build and was about 5 inches taller than me, but he wasn’t intimidating. Oddly, I felt safe and welcomed around him. 

“I uh, um, thank you,” I managed to blurt out. “Thank you for helping me get my suitcase back” 

“No problem, anything to help out.” 

I fiddled with my hair, still anxious about what just happened. I knew we had to part ways, but a part of me wanted to get to know him more, to spend more time with this stranger. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around sir.” I began to turn around, only to be met by a tap on the shoulder. 

“Hey, um miss, you forgot to take your suitcase,” he said, a sheepish smile on his face as he held it out to me. 

Ughh I’m so dumb! My face flushed red as I turned around. “Oh I’m so sorry, I was just— I mean I just had a lot on my mind.” I was such an idiot. How could I mess that up? 

“Hey,” he said, looking at the luggage tag. “You’re going to Salt Lake City?” 

“Yes,” I answered, unsure about why he would ask. 

“What a coincidence! I am heading there too!” he said, a slight hint of excitement in his voice. “We should be travel partners, at least till we arrive there.” 

It felt as if my wish came true. Almost instinctively I agreed and we seemed to grow closer just like that. It just so happened that within all the turmoil, the train to Salt Lake City just left and the next one was due in thirty minutes. So, we walked over to the nearest coffee shop inside the train station, hoping to kill some time. 

I waited in line to buy a coffee, and the stranger stood in front of me, turning around every now and then, a radiant smile still plastered on his face. He was so cute, the way he acted and the way he was so nice to me. When the line finally reached us, he ordered two iced coffees and handed one to me. “Here, it’s on me.” 

“No, its fine, I—” 

“Hey, err… _blondie_ , I bought it already. I insist.” 

I reached over and took the coffee with gratitude. We walked over to the nearest table and sat down. “By the way, the name’s Rapunzel, but…. I like blondie too” 

“That’s a pretty cool name,” he replied. “I’m Eugene,” he reached out his hand to me. 

I reached out mine and we formally shook hands. His grip was very firm but gentle as well. We both took sips of our coffee, but my eyes were glued to him. I still couldn’t get over how surreal the whole experience was. Never in a million years would I ever expect to have my suitcase stolen and then meet such a nice (and cute) stranger. 

I didn’t notice it before, but he had a bloodied bruise on his cheek, most likely from the previous altercation. “Your face, it’s hurt,” I gestured. 

His eyes widened. “Oh?” He ran his fingers across his own bloodied face, slightly wincing in pain. “Oh, it’s nothing much. I’ve been through worse” 

“I’m sorry,” I finally said. 

“Sorry? For what?” 

“Sorry for the whole suitcase thing, for you missing the train, and for your face,” I apologized again, hoping to right this situation. 

“I should be thanking you. You know,” he started. “I haven’t been friends with a lot of city girls like you.” 

My eyes opened wide. “How do you know I’m from the city?” 

“Well, I don’t see many green-eyed blondes in the small town I’m from. Plus, cities have pretty women like you. I see it on TV all the time, the celebrities and whatnot” 

I blushed. “Well, you guessed right. I am from New York City, but I’m nowhere near celebrity status” 

“Wow, the Big Apple? I don’t know if a peasant like me is worthy to be in your shadow, princess Rapunzel” he mused, pretending to bow. “Plus, I prefer real girls over those fake celebrities, you know?” he used his hands, miming large breasts. 

I tried to hold back my laughter at his comical mannerism. “So, Eugene, where are you from?” 

“Pshh, nowhere special,” he replied. “Springfield, in southeast Colorado.” 

“So what brings you to Salt Lake City?” I asked. 

“Well, that’s where I grew up,” he murmured, looking a little distracted. 

“Oh, so you’re visiting your parents?” I asked, hoping to spark some sort of conversation. 

Eugene leaned back on the chair and placed his hands behind his head, his biceps flaring out of his short-sleeved T-shirt. “Well, not exactly. You see, I kinda grew up in an orphanage and I was just going to visit some of the local scenery and see how the orphanage is doing.” 

I eyed him for a little, unsure about what to say. “I’m sorry to hear that” He sat back up on his chair and leaned closer to me, a confident look on his face. “Honestly, my childhood wasn’t all bad. It had its ups and downs but I didn’t mind” 

“Yeah, I can kinda relate,” I replied. He looked at me, his eyebrows raised slightly. “I live with my step-mother.” 

“And your father?” 

I looked away slightly. I never grew up with a father figure and it pained me to even talk about it. “Died, left, I don’t know. My mother never told me about him.” 

The silence grew between us and I felt as if the noisy train station around me dulled. I bit my lip, unsure about where this conversation was headed. Was this too weird for a first-time introduction? After all, who talks about their childhood orphanage or their missing father on the first conversation. 

“You know, I’m glad I met you Rapunzel,” he broke the silence. 

Then, the announcements blared again. _The train from Denver to Salt Lake City is arriving at Terminal 5._

Before we could finish our conversation, as if we read each other’s minds, we both got out and headed over to catch the train. As I reached for my suitcase and made my way towards the train, I felt a strong grip hold my hand. I looked over to my left and there he was. He beamed a smile down at me and I held his hand tighter. My hands felt like it fit in his as if he was meant for me. 

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Sketches

The train was a dulled shade of silver that gave the impression that it used to shine. It was muddy but one could still see the sleek features of the train. 

As I watched it pull in, my heart began to beat faster. What was this feeling? I was excited but also scared. I looked to my left to see Eugene, who smiled back at me. His carefree attitude was so different from mine. He never seemed timid or scared, but I knew why. I could say I was strong and bold but I’d be lying. The truth was, even an hour after I left New York I was so worried and paranoid that I had to check my phone every 10 minutes to make sure the train wasn’t headed the wrong way or something. But now that he was here next to me, I felt more secure, as if his mere presence filled me with confidence. 

When the train pulled to a halt, the doors opened. 

“M’lady,” he said, gently holding my hand and ushering me inside. I couldn’t help but laugh at his dorky attempt at being gentlemanly. 

The interior of the train was much different and more spacious than it appeared outside, with sections of chairs filled with tourists, traveling lovers, and the like. Eugene and I made our way to an empty section and began to load our suitcases into the cubbies. I noticed myself watching as Eugene effortlessly hoisted up both our suitcases, his lean biceps, and chest clearly showing through his T-shirt. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who noticed him. Two other girls walked by our aisle, dressed with high heels, and shorts that were practically the size of underwear. They seemed to flaunt their body curves, which frankly could’ve belonged on the cover of a beauty magazine. One of the girls smiled at Eugene and for a while, they talked and laughed together while I sat down twiddling my thumbs. I felt like a kid trying to hang out with the adults trying to say  _ hey hey remember me?  _ I couldn’t seem to justify my frustration. After all, I just met Eugene, can’t he talk with whoever pleases? What right do I have to feel jealous? 

I waited for Eugene to sit down, but he looked at me before a quick expression of guilt jolted his mind back to me. He gave the girl a farewell, slowly making his way towards me. He shot a familiar smile at me, the uniquely-Eugene smile from before. 

“Hmm, what do high-class city girls usually eat?” he asked rhetorically. “I’m afraid the train is all out of caviar.” 

“You know, I think I’d be fine with peasant food today,” I played along with his joke. “I’ll go get us some food from the bar. I’ll be right back blondie,” he said, reaching up to grab his bag. 

“Mkay,” I replied, relieved that I was finally going to get something to eat and that the whole inner drama with the girls was over. 

I watched outside the slightly-fogged and dirt-covered window as people rushed to get on the train. The train station had a bunch of marble and limestone pillars rising from a granite floor. The domed ceiling of the station was very ornate and baroque-esque. I took out my digital camera and snapped a few photos. One of my hobbies is art and architecture, and sometimes I feel as though I stumble past the finest works of art all around me.  _ Only when your mind is clear that You can see the beauty of the world,  _ my professor always said. Minutes passed and the train began to roll out the station, with the soft whirring sound of a starting engine. I stood up and looked down the aisle and saw the two girls from before in the front, taking selfies and laughing about who knows what, but no Eugene. Twenty more minutes passed and the train had long rolled out the station, with the open countryside whizzing by. Then the realization hits me, what if he ditched me? After all, he would probably much rather be with the models than a girl like me with clearly less fashion sense. Ever since I was little, I never cared for my clothes too much. Even as an adult, I pick out whatever seemed “cute” and cheap, hence my current pink floral camisole and light purple skirt which seemed to yell  _ boring. _ But those girls’ shoes alone were probably worth more than all my luggage combined. Then the worst thoughts came up to my mind. When I was at home I remembered seeing a news story about a teenage girl who was kidnapped by a man and then her body was found sometime later. What if Eugene was just using me? After all, why else was he so eager to get to know me and even come with me? Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I let out a quick shriek and jolted up, away from the attacker. Only, it wasn't a stranger. I turned around to greet Eugene who was holding cups of coffee and bags of chips, with a coffee-stained shirt, clearly from the unexpected jolt. His brown eyes were wide open with amusement and confusion at the same time as his eyebrows stood on end. 

“Woah blondie are you alright? You look freaked out.” he sat down on the seat across from me, handing me the cup of coffee and a large pile of snacks. “I didn’t know what you liked so I got some chips, granola, and fruit. And I  _ had  _ two cups of coffee.” 

My face flushed red. “I'm sorry for spilling the coffee, I was just worried about something.” I couldn't tell him about my paranoia or the whole kidnapping thing. He'd think I was crazy. 

“Hmm,” he replied, still preoccupied with wiping his stained shirt. “You know, I never liked this shirt,” he looked at me with his compassionate eyes and I felt my heart beat a little faster. “Plus, this stain will always remind me of you” he chuckled, clearly realizing how cliche he sounded. 

I couldn't help but laugh too, watching as Eugene furiously dabbed at the stain. “Thanks for everything. I don't know why I thought you'd left me.” _Oh my gosh._ _Oh my gosh._ The words accidentally slipped my tongue. 

As if those were the magic words, it seemed to get his full attention. Eugene got up from his seat and looked at me questioningly, his hand on his chin. “Now please tell me why I would ditch a wonderful girl like you?” he teased. 

I blushed. “Because you changed your mind about me,” I answered. My chest ached as I realized I had not taken a breath for a while. I sighed. “I thought you’d realize I was not special, that you were better off going by yourself. I thought you were using me. After all, why go through all the trouble of helping me out?” 

Eugene didn’t say anything and I felt as if a dagger drove into my heart.  _ I blew it. He definitely thinks I’m dumb now _ . 

I felt him lean closer to me, his slight warmth radiating off to me. 

“You know I didn't like the girls right? I mean I was just being friendly so they'd leave. After all, all they talked about was their first-class seats and money,” Eugene feigned disgust. 

I felt a burden lift off my chest. All this time I worried about nothing. “Y-you knew about that?” 

“Hey, I'm a lady’s man I know how women think,” he teased. Eugene slightly puckered his lips into an oddly attractive smolder. 

“Oh? I’m sure you do” I sarcastically agree. 

“Plus, if I wanted to use you I would’ve sold you to a black market by now. After all, you’d be worth a lot,” he teased. 

He had a cute smile on his face, the kind of smile that made girls like me swoon. “And what makes me worth a lot?” 

He rubbed his chin and squinted his eyes pretending to examine me. “Well, youth can sell for a lot. Lemme guess, are you 21?” 

It was strange how quickly embarrassment turned to light-hearted fun. 

“No, 18” I answered proudly. 

“Yikes, sorry,” he laughed. “And what is your height?” 

“5,4,” 

“Any special talents or skills?” 

“Well…” I pause. “I can paint and draw pretty well,” I replied. 

He looks straight at me and reaches into his bag, pulling out a notepad and pencil. “Now, before I access your worth on the black market, I need to verify your skills.” He handed me the notepad and pencil. “Now, draw me.” 

So I did. As the pencil moved and the pencil glided over the paper, his facial structure was being constructed line by line. My passion flowed into the paper, but when the train went into a dark tunnel and I couldn’t see the notepad well anymore, I closed my eyes drew Eugene in my mind, imagining his sharp jawline, his debonair eyes, and wavy hair. I imagined his confidence and funny personality. I imagined him with me. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Mountains

For once, I felt calm. The memories of that day seemed so fleeting, so surreal as if it was a dream. Still, now, I look back to that day with Eugene, the day that changed my life.

The train’s rumbling brought me back to the real world. I had an aftertaste in my mouth, coffee. I couldn’t open my eyes. I didn’t  _ want  _ to open my eyes. The smooth turbulence of the train begged me to go back to slumber. 

But I forced my eyes open, taking in the dim light of the train. I saw and felt the sun bleed through the window shade but I didn’t open it. The sketch pad and pencil were on my lap, with a scraggly sketch of Eugene. 

I didn’t notice it at first but I had a hand around my waist. It was a firm but gentle hold, one that made me feel secure. And I had a head on my shoulder, Eugene’s. I felt him there, his eyes shut and lips slightly parted. He didn’t snore, but his breathing made a rhythmic breathing noise. He was so peaceful in his sleep, so beautiful. 

I quickly shook my head, knowing that it was weird to stare. 

I reached down to my waist, holding his limp hand. It was large and calloused from what I would assume to be years on the dole. 

I seemed to doze off again, but this time I daydreamed. I wonder. I wonder what Eugene’s life was like. What did he do for a living? I felt a little pity for him. How could an orphan like him manage to have a normal life? The prospect of it all disheartened me. 

I had always wanted to be a doctor. Whatever biology classes my high school offered, I took advantage of it. I still looked forward to college, pre-med, and becoming a medical practitioner. Of course, my stepmother didn’t make it easy but I managed. I sighed, feeling slightly guilty of my complaints despite my well-off life. 

Just then, I felt the hand retreat from me and I heard his soft groans. I pivoted my body and watched him awake. He stretched a little and rubbed his eyes. As if he expected me to greet his awakening, he leaned close to me, a cute smirk on his face, his hair slightly ruffled from leaning on me. 

“Mornin’ blondie,” he grinned. 

I wanted to tell him how cute he was, how I wanted to get to know him. His mere presence, a few inches from me made my heart leap. I wanted to say something but the train announcements blared. 

_ Arriving at Salt Lake City Terminal. Please pack your bags and get ready to exit the train.  _

I pulled up the window shade and I couldn’t believe what I saw. The train was whizzing by but the mountains seemed stationary on the horizon. 

“Wow,” the words escaped from my mouth. It was beautiful, more so than Times Square, or the monotonous rows of buildings I’d see in NYC. 

Again, I glanced at Eugene who was preoccupied with packing up his bags. Deep inside I knew. I knew that this trip was going to be special. 

  
  



	4. With Him

Freedom, the one thing everyone looks forward to when they become an adult. It was kinda ironic considering that essays, papers, or work piles up much more when you become an adult. But perhaps  _ freedom _ doesn’t mean more time or fewer rules. Maybe  _ freedom _ means emotional freedom. Freedom from the bondage of parents, and the abandonment of childhood naivete for adulthood maturity. Only now I realize that  _ freedom _ also meant love. Love is so elusive and some claim it isn’t even real. My step-mother told me that love is mutual exploitation. Her relationship with my father was always strained until the day he passed. But deep inside I hoped she was wrong. No, I KNEW she was wrong. 

_ Hey, Raps how’s your trip going? -Fine, But my first train got delayed a little :( It’s all right, I’ll see you here! -I can’t wait to see you again, XOXO :D  _

Cassandra was a life long friend and it seems so strange that we haven’t seen each other for almost a year now. It seemed like it was just yesterday when we played dress-up together or explored every inch of the nearby park looking for treasure. She was always more introverted than me, but she told me that she had a hard time making friends with anyone except for me. Now that she’s living alone, I suppose it would be the best time for her to break out of that old habit. 

It was a warm day, and it seemed as though tourists were swarming the gift shops that sold moose themed t-shirts and plushes. The sun beamed down on me and I felt like I was gonna faint from the heat. I heard from the local folks that there was going to be a big rainstorm later. The TV channels back in the airport seemed to confirm this. 

Eugene was walking in front of me, his eyes darting from sign to sign. When I saw him, I had the same feeling as before. This feeling was so real as if it were a seed planted during our encounter and blooming just now. He glanced back at me with a smile. I blush. 

I thought back to the train when he put his hands around me. Surely it was nothing serious. After all, we’d just met. But I hoped it meant something special. 

He slowed down and walked beside me. He was sweating and I saw his t-shirt cling to his muscular body. I tried not to stare but he caught me peeping at him, giving me a cute smirk. 

“So, blondie. You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here. Just sightseeing?” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“I wish I had enough time to see everything, but I’m actually here to visit my childhood friend.” 

“Oh, I bet he’s one lucky guy.” Eugene’s voice seemed to dip. 

I laugh, surprised about the sudden change in tone. “It’s not like that.  _ She’s  _ my friend” 

“Oh,” his eyes brightened. 

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds like you were a little jealous,” I tease. 

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Rapunzel.” 

We walked a few more blocks until we saw a bus stop. There were a few groups of families there, children holding the hands of their mothers and complaining about the heat. 

“Rapunzel, I guess it’s time we part ways.” he gestured at the bus stop, a slight hint of regret in his voice. “This should take you to a few local tourist hotels.” 

“NO!” I didn’t think about what I said. I couldn’t part ways with him. Not yet. “Err..” 

“Blondie, where else are you going to go?” His hand touched my shoulder. 

My heart ached. How did he not know? Do I really have to tell him? “With you.” The words escaped out of my mouth and I heard it reverberate in my head, as I held my breath waiting for his response. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He extended his hand to me, and I grabbed hold of it. Maybe Cassandra can wait one more day. 

  
  
  
  



	5. Fireworks

“Hey, Blondie! Come check this out!” Eugene gestured at the horizon, outlined by shrubbery and a glimmering river. The view was breathtaking and I felt as if I was in a painting by C.M Russell.

“Wow! You don’t see a view like this in New York!” I pulled out my sketchpad and held my fingers up, trying to frame it. Cassandra always asked me why I needed to do that but I told her that it helped me concentrate on one scene. I needed to capture this moment on paper forever. I sketched a river, flanked by rows of shiny rocks on the banks, and I drew the mountainous background but I couldn’t seem to capture the majesty of the real mountains, which stood tall above all the landscape I saw with my eyes. I sketched currents flowing through the river as I pictured the sapphire blue of the rapids. 

“Wow, Rapunzel, you really are something!” I heard a voice beside me. 

I seemed so mesmerized by the landscape that I couldn’t notice him come up to me. The compliment almost escaped me, but I managed to get a bit giddy. 

“Thanks but it’s just a rough sketch for now” 

“Well, if this is just a sketch I wanna see how perfect your finished work will be!” 

“Aww, thanks, but I think it’ll look better with you in it. Whaddaya say Eugene?” 

“Hmm, just don’t get my nose wrong,” he posed with his chest puffed and head turned upwards to the side. His pose was triumphant, just how he was when he ran after that thief or when he took me with him to travel instead of leaving me alone. I remembered the sketch I had of him on the train. I pulled it out and examined the sharp contours of Eugene’s jaw and face. When I compare the picture with Eugene, they no longer seemed like the same person. There was this aura of hesitance, but now it was replaced with trust and purpose. I brought my pencil to the sketchpad and drew, letting the graphite glide across the paper. Eugene was looking at my direction and I thought he wanted to see my drawing. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he was not looking at my sketchpad. He was looking at me. My face flushed as red as the flowers that dotted the grass, but I pretended like I didn’t notice anything. 

Just as I finished, the sun had already begun to set and a large crowd gathered near the river, huddling up into small groups, most with a beer in hand. 

“Eugene, what are these people doing here?” 

“Today… today is the 4th of July! I almost forgot!” He grabbed my arm firmly and pulled me along down the river. He guided me with his hand and we whizzed down through the forest, the foliage seeming to blur into shades of green.” 

When I ran beside him, the landscape grew more beautiful in the moonlight, with him holding my hand, guiding me. “Eugene, where are we going…” I managed to sneak in a few words in between our sprint. 

Then, we arrived at an outcrop near a small cabin, it’s windows glowing dimly in the night. 

“Blondie, stay here.” 

“But where are you going?” 

“It’s a surprise. Just promise you won’t look.”He looked at me and gave me a devilish grin that made my heart flutter, as if he was telling me, ‘you’ll see soon enough’ 

“Sure thing,” I chuckled. “Just, be quick please.” 

He placed his hands on his waist. “Well, I might want to keep you in suspense a bit longer.” 

“Euugene…” I furrowed my brows. 

He smiled and swiftly descended the outcrop, giving me a close-your-eyes gesture when he reached the bottom. And so I laid on my back, my neck tickled by the grass blowing in the wind. The stars littered the sky with their beauty. It was sad that I couldn’t see any of them in New York. I had always wanted to move out of the city to stargaze every night, but I never would’ve expected to be on a trip with a random guy I met. 

“Blondie!” 

I sat up and saw Eugene, an oar in one hand and dragging a wooden canoe with the other. “Where did you get th—“ 

“Well,” he interrupted. “I am merely borrowing their canoe. I’ll return it later,” he answered sheepishly. 

As much as I felt uneasy about taking, or ‘borrowing’, someone else’s objects, it might be exciting to canoe for the first time. Eugene pushed the boat into the water and jumped in. 

“Well…?” He reached out his hand, beckoning me to join him. 

I hesitated, my mind telling me yes even though my body seemed to freeze up. “I—can’t I don’t even know how to canoe” I reached out my hand to his, still unsure about the whole thing. 

But with one strong jerk, he pulled me from the land into the boat, my weight falling on him, my body on his. It didn’t hurt me but it sure surprised me. I felt his heat through his T-shirt, and it oddly comforted me. 

“Eugene! Are you ok?” I blurted out while trying to regain my composure. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, just figured there was no talking you into canoeing so I pulled you into it. Literally.” 

The boat began to float away from the shore and started to drift along the currents of the river. 

It was remarkable how much more beautiful everything was on the river. The stars seemed to grow brighter as they reflected off of the smooth river surface, almost as perfectly as a mirror. I sat there, absorbing all of it in. There was no use in drawing anything. Nothing could capture the beauty of it all. 

Eugene, his body eclipsed my view of the bow of the canoe when he turned around. “So, Rapunzel, ever been canoeing before?” 

“Well, considering that there aren’t many rivers in New York City, I’d say no. If I hadn’t accidentally bumped into you at the airport I’d never be on a canoe in the middle of nowhere.” 

“With a stranger,” he added. 

“Well, I think now we are at least friends right?” 

“That, blondie, is up to you. Are we JUST friends?” 

My face grew hot and I felt flustered. Did. He. Just. Say. What. I. Thought. He. Said? “Um, I don’t know…” I whispered. 

He turned his head towards the horizon, his face shrouded in thought. “Maybe…” he started. “Maybe this wasn’t an accident. Do you believe in fate Rapunzel?” 

“I don’t know if we were predestined to do anything. I don’t know if God controls us like robots or just watches over us. But like most stuff in my life, I think it was an accident.” 

He held my hand and fixed his gaze back on me. “Well, I suppose you’re right,” he nonchalantly answered, his smile stretching. 

“That it was an accident?” I questioned him. 

“That you’re MY accident” 

I tried to hold a straight face but a smile broke through. “As weird as it sounds, thanks. I don’t get many compliments like that.” 

“I guess it means you need to be flattered more” he joked. 

“Be my guest, Eugene,” I mused back. 

He leaned back on the boat. “Well, for starters, you’re artistic, beautiful, kind, and brave. I’m a lucky guy to spend this night with you.” 

“You seem to know a lot about me but how do you know what kind of person I am?” 

“Well, I know you’re the type of girl who sees happiness and hope in everything, a girl who was timid when I first met her but now isn’t afraid to open up her emotions, a girl who yearns to see the greater world out there and a girl who doesn’t boast about herself because her magnificence and beauty already accentuates it,” he paused. “Now, I have a question for you. Who do you think I am?” 

I thought about what he said. Was that really how he viewed me? I had always felt like I was merely an ordinary girl who had family problems growing up. But being with Eugene sparked something new in me. “I’d say that you are a very brave and resourceful person who, though experienced hardships, is optimistic for a brighter future. And, unlike me, you yearn for a home where you can settle down from your traveling. And you’re caring, always looking out for the small guy, even while you were struggling in an orphanage.” 

“You’re wrong,” he interrupted. “I’m not who you think I am.” 

“Eugene… of course you are.” 

“No, throughout my life I’d been nothing more than a petty thief,” he turned his head and broke eye contact. 

“A thief?” It was shocking but it didn’t shake my faith in him. Coming from an orphan childhood, it seemed like being a thief was a necessity. 

“I always stole to feed myself and the other kids and sometimes it was from families who needed the money. I figured that the poorer the person was, the easier it would be to steal from them. And now I try to find other ways to earn a living, but on hard days I’d steal to survive or steal in the winter to get a warm prison cell to sleep in for a month. Truth was, I am not the good person you think I am.” 

“But you’re heart is not evil. I see that you cared for me, an absolute stranger. You risked your safety trying to catch the thief in the airport. You might have been a thief but you can always change.” 

He turned his head back towards me and at that very moment, as if it was a sign from God, I heard a firework whiz overhead, exploding into thousands of bright lights. This was followed by more fireworks, colored red, white, and blue. 

His brown eyes burned into mine, but it was a nice burn. It was calming. “Wow, you’re even more beautiful in the moonlight” he whispered. 

I open my mouth to say something, but a lump formed in my throat and before I knew it, his lips clashed with mine into a symphony of love underneath the millions of stars of the heavens. He held me tightly against himself, and the boat began to rock back and forth as he shifted his own body towards my side. His hips were against mine and my back was gently pinned on the boat but I dared not move lest I ruin the moment. 

I counted in my head, the rhythm of the fireworks, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… but the kiss kept going. When he pulled back, he caressed my face and pulled me in for another kiss. This time, the kiss was so strong it could’ve parted the river or split open the sky. I held my arms around his muscular back and waited until the spark slowly died, but it never did. When he pulled himself away, I had the feeling of a lost sneeze, that the kiss wasn’t long enough. 

And when we both realized what had happened, we knew that we were no longer merely friends. 

* * *

“Eugene?” 

“Yes?” 

“Make sure you return the boat.” 

“Hah, I won’t forget.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. His Caretaker

Through the fireworks and loud commotion, I had lost track of time. If my memory serves me right, I fell asleep alongside Eugene whilst still in the middle of the river. But instead, I woke up lying on my back on the grass, while Eugene was sleeping beside me. Everything was different. It was quiet and there were only a few drunk stragglers left from the 4th of July celebration. I felt as though a burden has been lifted from my chest as if the breeze of slumber whisked it away while I was dozed off. It’s official, Eugene and I are a thing now! I could hardly believe the events that had transpired last night!I didn’t realize it, but Eugene was awake, or at least partially awake, his lazy brown eyes blinking at me. He was so cute that I just wanted to cuddle with him by a fireplace. 

“Good morning,” he said teasingly. “Waiting for you to wake up was so boring.” 

“Well, you’re not exactly awake yourself,” I remark. 

He smiled and pulled me closer to him in a warm embrace. When I was younger I always imagined what my first date was gonna be like. I imagined a guy taking me to a fancy restaurant or a movie, but never would I expect it being out on a lake halfway across the country. 

The quiet was nice, but alas, the peace was broken by a bloodcurdling scream from behind me. 

Immediately, Eugene’s eyes opened wide and focused on something. I turned around. On the beach, two large redhead drunk guys in dirty t-shirts and shorts were surrounding a poor girl, who was clutching her purse. 

“Wait here Blondie. Don’t move,” Eugene commanded. He quickly darted up towards the commotion and I was left in terror and confusion. What was he thinking? There were two guys and only one of him! 

I stood up and brushed the dirt off my shirt. They attacked, grabbing the girl by the hair and whatever they could hold onto. The girl was frantically trying to escape their vicious grasps. I wanted to yell at them, tell them to leave, but I realize I’d just get myself killed. So I reached for my phone and dialed for the police. Eugene ran up, and pushed the guy, interrupting the scene. He stood between the two drunks and the girl, who took her chance and ran away while the commotion got heated. The two men didn’t notice. They were now focused on Eugene. 

I felt the phone buzz. It was dialing.  _ 911 what’s your emergency?  _

“Please send help quick,” I replied.  _ All right, what’s your address?  _ But I didn’t answer. Frankly, I had no idea where we were. I heard them argue even louder, and I knew I had to do something about it. Eugene was smiling but I knew what that smile was. He was using his charm, subtly playing with the guys without them even knowing it. But I knew that something bad was gonna happen. I couldn’t let them hurt Eugene.  _ Miss? Are you still there?  _ Then, it escalated as one of the guys pulled out a switchblade, pointing it at Eugene. 

“Woah guys, listen we don’t have to be enemies. You don’t want to hurt this face,” Eugene mused. 

“Hah, you hear what pretty boy is saying? He took our girl and now he thinks he can tell us what to do!” the guy laughed. 

They lunged at Eugene, who swiftly dodged their drunken swipes. 

I hung up the phone. That didn’t matter anymore. The police wouldn’t get here in time. It’s up to me. 

Then I heard a scream of pain and I saw a streak of red on Eugene’s arm. No no no, this can’t be happening. Eugene continued to fight, landing a few punches and jabs, but he was badly injured. 

I look around for a weapon of some sort. There was a BBQ grill nearby, filled with burnt charcoal and a black frying pan on the stovetop. I grabbed hold of the pan and snuck up on the men. They were too busy arguing to notice me. And I aimed and tossed the pan as hard as I could at the guy wielding the knife, and he staggered, dropping his blade. His temple, where the pan hit, was bleeding. They looked at me with eyes of fury and confusion as if they didn’t expect me to attack them. Eugene stared at me, his eyes open with surprise and fear. But through this moment of confusion, Eugene bolted and grabbed my hand and we ran. 

We ran off the beach and darted through a park into a town neighborhood. The two guys were behind us, surprisingly swift for two drunks. They cussed at us and threw rocks at us, but we kept running. I could hear the sound of my own heart beating alongside Eugene’s swift strides. He was fast, but my adrenaline kept me up to pace with him. He was holding my hand, and guided me into a small convenience store, hoping to lose them. But the men were still behind us, yelling over the shouts of the store owner. I couldn’t hear them over my heavy breathing. My body was telling me that I was tired, but my mind was fresh and spry. When we exited the back of the store, Eugene pulled me into a narrow alleyway. It was a dead-end and the two men were about 10 feet in front of us. We were cornered. 

“Look up,” Eugene motioned to me. 

I looked and saw a fire escape ladder about 7 feet above us. There was no way we could reach that. 

“Follow me,” Eugene commanded. 

He got a running start and vaulted onto a dumpster and jumped, grabbing onto the fire escape ladder. He held his hand down to me. “Come on Blondie, you got this” 

The two guys quickly bolted toward us. I needed to go. Now. 

I didn’t know if I would make it. But I felt fearless and let my body carry me. I trusted Eugene. I climbed onto the dumpster and jumped and my hand found his grip. I felt them graze my foot. They missed just barely. He effortlessly pulled me up, leaving the two men seething in anger. 

There was no way they could reach us now but Eugene led me onto the roof, jumping from rooftop to rooftop between the small buildings. We arrived at a white roof, surrounded by ventilation shafts and not much else. I quickly look into Eugene’s eyes, hoping to find happiness or relief. But he wasn’t relieved. He was angry. 

“Rapunzel! How could you do that? Throwing a pan at them? Did you want them to come after you?” his voice grew louder and one tear rolled down his cheek. “I didn’t want to lose you. If you got hurt, I…” he cut himself off. 

I realized that he wasn’t angry. He was afraid. 

“Eugene, I’m fine. I had to help! They pulled out a knife and were gonna kill YOU” I rebuked. “Your arm!” I was astonished by how bad it was. There was so much blood coming out that the white floor below him was littered with drops of red. The cut was deep, about an inch. 

“No, I’m fine I got it under control!” he insisted. But as he examined his right forearm, the severity of the situation got to him. He groaned in pain and sat down on the ventilation shaft, his other hand squeezing a metal pipe. 

I reached into my handbag and pulled out a handkerchief, and pressed it against the wound. 

“Ahh!” Eugene let out a cry of pain. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” I apologized. 

“N-no, don’t worry about it.” 

I pulled out my medical kit. I studied nursing back in New York and I always carried it around. It didn’t have much, but there was a suture kit, bandages, alcohol, and such. The cut needed to be closed so I took out my suture kit. 

“What are you doing Rapunzel?” he asked, his teeth clenched in pain. The handkerchief was soaked red. He was still bleeding badly. 

“I’m going to close your wound. I’ll need to stitch the cut.” 

“No, I hate needles,” he protested, his face began to pale. 

“The cut is too deep! You’re losing too much blood!” I prepared the needle and alcohol. “Now promise not to freak out” 

He nodded. So I poured the alcohol over his cut and watched as his wound began to bubble up. Eugene grunted but I held his other hand and comforted him. Our eyes locked and I saw his old self back again. Even though excruciating pain and all that has happened, I saw his loving eyes yet again. And as I sutured up his wound, I couldn’t help but blame myself. If I had done something sooner, none of this would’ve happened to him. It hurt me, seeing him in pain. 

“I’m sorry,” I feebly apologize, my eyes still focused on his wound. 

There was a gentle touch on my cheek, guiding my chin upwards. He leaned in and gave me a gentle kiss on my lips. “No, don’t blame yourself Rapunzel. I love you and I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. That wasn’t your fault they attacked me.” 

Hearing those words of endearment made my eyes water and my heart flutter. “I made a promise to myself that I would protect you just like you did for me when we first met,” I sighed. “I need to pay you back for all that you’d done for me.” 

“Being here and staying with me is enough. You don’t need to risk your life to help me,” his voice became stern. 

“And you? Why do you risk your life all the time?” My voice got more intense. He didn’t need to jump into the conflict, but he did. “Why did you help me? Why did you help that girl at the lake?” I practically tore into him with my words and I saw that he was hurt. 

He looked away. “Because nobody ever helped me. Because I was always the outcast. I want to show people the kindness the world never showed me” His eyes burned deep into mine. “Nobody ever loved me except you. And I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt.” 

“And I can’t bear it if you get another injury like this.” 

There was silence between us as we contemplated what the other had said. 

I put in the last suture, and Eugene grunted in pain. “You’re good at this. I'm guessing this isn’t your first time” 

“I’ve only ever practiced with practice kits in medical school, never on a real person” 

“Medical school?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I guess I always felt like I had a gift for medicine” 

“It must be nice that your family has someone like you to care for them.” 

“Who cares for you?” I ask. 

“I care for myself.” 

“What if you get sick or injured? Do you go to the doctor?” 

“No, I rather not bother with hospital bills. I just rest up a bit and I’m usually better.” 

“What about now? You think something like this can just heal by itself?” 

It made me angry about how stubborn Eugene was. I didn’t know why he was so careless with his own health, why he didn’t trust anyone to help him. But it dawned on me that Eugene was truly alone in the world. He had no one else. he’s an orphan with no family, no one to love him. I grab the roll of bandages and carefully wrap his forearm. 

“No, but I am thankful that you are here Rapunzel.” 

“Eugene, please promise me one thing. Promise me that you’ll be more careful. Promise me that you will let me take care of you.” 

I held my breath as I waited for his answer. I wanted to be the person Eugene could count on. I wanted to be the companion that he never had, to be the first person in his life that looked out for him. I wanted him to trust me. 

“Alright, I promise.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. True Love

The bed was soft and Rapunzel felt the cool sheets on her toes. As a child, she would always walk around barefoot everywhere to feel the world. To her, her feet were like a second pair of hands. 

The clock was ticking. Rapunzel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Despite being in a mediocre motel room, there was a hint of lavender, which was noticeable but not too strong. It made her drowsy but as always, once she was awake, she couldn’t fall back asleep. 

To have a room to themselves, some meager nightstands with two comfortable queen-sized beds, and the invisible feeling, as if it was an unbreakable tether between the two, of comfort and safety amongst themselves was incredibly good fortune, she thought. 

Then there was a buzz. Eugene’s phone lit up, and a text message popped up on it, the dim blue glow reflecting off of his unshaven face and off of his shoulders and biceps which were exposed through his white tank top. She saw his eyes open slightly. Another buzz. He groaned and turned his head. This time, the buzzing stopped and he became still. She wished that he was awake, or at least in the purgatory between awake and asleep. She wanted someone to talk to but she didn’t want to bother him. So she stared straight up at the ceiling, using it as a white canvas, remembering the thrilling chase and then picturing Eugene’s bleeding arm, his pain, determination, and strength. But she hoped that Eugene wasn’t still angry at her carelessness. She closed her eyes, no longer wanting to picture the blurs of her memories anymore. 

She didn’t know what to think about what happened earlier today, or why, afterward, he decided to take a bus to stay at this motel near the quieter edge of town where there were churches every corner and a local bar in every precinct. But all she wanted to do was be with him. Wherever he went. 

Eugene was awake, and he was very well aware that Rapunzel was too. Sometimes, he would hear her humming herself to sleep or hear her feet ruffle the crisp motel sheet covers. These sounds were soft and comforting like ASMR. They reminded him of her soft and comforting personality. 

There was something motherly about Rapunzel that was attractive… the way she cared for Eugene, getting so angry over his injury and not even hesitating to suture it up. Eugene wanted to say something to break the silence between them. As if they were migrants through time and life, they longed to reunite after their journey and tell all their tales of hardship and joy. But, he thought, she must still be angry at him. After all, he did berate her after she risked her life to try to save him. 

But he didn’t want to look at her, partly out of nervousness and the slight streak of timidness inside him, or the eagerness to listen and feel their proximity without uttering a single world or being involved in a conversation. Sadly, he knew from experience how bad tensions in relationships can get. Just wait it out, he learned. Just wait it out. 

There was a shower nearby in the hall. Eugene wanted to take a shower more than anything, even preferring to starve than to continue sleeping in his filth. He got up out of his bed and saw that Rapunzel had her eyes closed, but for a second he could almost see her eyes open just a sliver. She was so peaceful, so beautiful. Sometimes he wondered if Rapunzel was too good for him, or, as it’s said, “out of his league”. 

When Eugene went into the bathroom, he stripped off his boxers and tank top, observing his body and how it has changed. He was leaner than he’d remembered, his tight abdomen and chest muscles now being very visible under a layer of grime from sweat, dirt, and heck even blood. There was a stitched-up gash on his forearm, healing well thanks to Rapunzel’s handiwork. But there was also a smaller gash on the side of his abdomen which he had not told Rapunzel about as to not worry her. It had become inflamed due to neglect and it was dearly sensitive to pain. He looked boorish and almost savage, his chest hair unruly, his upper body dirtied and scarred by months— years of neglect, and his body (including his manhood) needing a major shave. The water pressure in the shower was amazing, as he felt it beat his skin, softening his calluses, and loosening his muscles and joints. The heat seeped into his bones, which were chilled from years of moving from place to place and living on the dole. But there was pain when the water seeped into his untreated wound. Eugene gnashed his teeth when he applied soap to his body, feeling the soap burn into his gash. But it was a good burn, like the burn of alcohol on a cut as you watch it slowly kill the bacteria. Eugene liked hot water because it seemed to sear off enough of him to make him feel like a new person again. Maybe it was because he seemed to always be disgusted with his false personas, which never committed to any relationships. But with Rapunzel, maybe Eugene was finally himself: his true self. 

He wiped himself off with the motel’s pristine white towels. He wrapped himself with it, preferring the comfort of clean linen rather than his blood and sweat-stained clothes. The steam of the room suffocated him and he longed for the sting of the fresh air in his nostrils. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a whoosh of cool air that was begging to embrace him. This time, he saw that Rapunzel was indeed awake. 

She, of course, still in her bed, blushed red and immediately recoiled at the sight of a shirtless man in a bath towel, only darting her eyes at him out of curiosity every now and then. It made her heart tingle when she realized that was the body that was so close to her on the boat in the middle of the lake. They said nothing, but it wasn’t awkward. In fact, the silence was a buffer that made both of them smile. 

Eugene plopped back on his bed, the cool sheets feeling as though he was a man stuck in the desert heat only to find a pool of water to jump into. 

Eugene titled his body towards Rapunzel, who met his gaze with her’s. 

Their breathing was in sync as Rapunzel looked at the wound on his forearm and wounds on his body. And she watched as the steam from his body rose up to the ceiling and dissipated. So too did she wonder about love at times. She wondered whether love is like a series of wounds that heal into scars shortly after, only to again be ready for another cut or bruise, or was love like steam, so ethereal and intangible. 

Or maybe, they both thought as they continued to examine each other, love was like a shower, you come out of it cleansed of your dirt and your false persona. In love, true love, you are yourself: your true self. 

  
  
  
  
  



	8. Loneliness

_ BUM BUM BUM….. _ "Rapunzel, open the door for mommy!" No. I can't. If I do, she'll hurt me again. BUM BUM BUM.. the door sounded again. Please. No. BUM BUM BUM, the door sounded like it was going to break as if the hinges would fall off and the wood would splinter. "My flower, why won't you open the door?" The loud banging was loud but my throbbing heartbeat drowned the noise out. My heart told me to run away, to the window. So I did. when I rolled up the window, the howling wind of the night time storm hit me in the face. The rain told me to stay inside, to not risk it. But I didn't care. I stepped out onto the wet roof and I climbed down from the two-story house and then I ran. I ran away in my pink pajamas and never looked back at the decrepit house I called home. I ran until I couldn't run anymore. I ran until the wind and the rain soaked me. Until my bones were frozen stiff. Until I collapsed. Even after I was taken into child custody, I ran from my past. Even when I met my step-mother, I still felt myself running away from Mother. 

The sound of the banging doors still echoed in my head…  _ BUM BUM BUM _ I shot up from my bed, the noise waking me afternoon light beamed into the room, but it did not feel sunny nor warm. "Eugene?" His bed was empty. There was a small red stain where he laid, and I felt like crying. Where was he? I tried to stand but I realized that I injured my knee pretty bad during that escape. I powered through the soreness, standing up, walking to the door, where the banging noise rocked my head.

"W-Who is it?" I whispered, feeling my knees buckle beneath me. Then the noise stopped and I looked around the quiet room which whispered to me, telling me to find him. The voice in my head, telling me that Eugene left me. No, he couldn't have.

"It's the motel owner. You were supposed to check out this morning," the voice behind the door answered. 

I glanced at the clock. 12:07. I couldn't hear him well, as if my brain was tuning out the frequencies of the world. I looked around for a sign of him, anything. But I remembered that Eugene was a vagabond. He carried nothing but his wit with him. There was something on the nightstand beside his bed. A note, with 200 dollars and a hair comb on top. I crumpled up the money and tossed both the comb and the bills on the floor as I snatched the note off of the table. More banging in the background. 

"If you don't get out I'm calling the cops." I ignored him and read the ink scribbles. 

_ Rapunzel. I'm sorry it had to be this way, but I had to leave. I care about you and words can't describe my feelings for you: the happiness I have when I am with you. You made me feel like a man for once instead of a poor orphan boy. Rapunzel, you are my sunshine but I can't be with you anymore. I can't travel with you anymore. I don't have money, connections, or anything. That day I got injured, it made me realize how much of a liability I was for you. I'm not safe to be around Blondie. You have a bright medical career ahead of you and you deserve someone more than me. I left $200 for the motel and for the rest of your journey. I also left my comb for you. It was the first thing I ever stole and it is my most precious possession. I always carry it with me wherever I go, and I hope that you can remember me with that. It's all I have. Sorry I couldn't get you more. I just hope that you'll go on with your life and be happy. ~Eugene  _

Tears flowed from my eyes and my knees gave out as I fell onto the carpeted ground. My vision became soft and thoughts raced through my mind. Was it all a lie? When he said he said he had feelings for me on that lake, did he mean it? Maybe I was right, I was an  _ accident  _ in his life. If he truly cared about me, why would he leave? The yelling and banging of the door in the background continued. I clutched the letter near my breast and tried to wake up. I wanted to feel his warm touch, to see him again, sleeping across from me, his lips touching mine. I wanted to sketch him again, to hold an image of him in my mind. I tried to wake up from this nightmare, the same nightmare that I ran away from as a child: loneliness and fear.  _ BUM BUM BUM _ and the door finally opened. 

  
  



	9. An Old Friend

It was the same dream I always had. White clouds, blue sky, coconut trees, a sandy beach. Not just any beach. _My beach_ , in fact, it was my own goddamn island. There was usually a pirate ship, some piles of gold, and all the wealth I could amass. And at night, when the sun sleeps, it is just the right amount of cool and tranquility that you can drift away watching the stars without a care in the world. But this time, it was different. She was with me, she was my new dream.

 _White walls. Fuck_ , _people are looking. Why are they looking at me like that? I am moving. But I am not moving my legs. It’s bumpy, the lights are bright. Wheels. I am being rolled on a stretcher. Why? Blue, red, blue, red._

“What is your name?” they asked.

“Flynn”

“What is your full name sir?”

“Flynn Rider”

Then it all went black.

There was a woman I cared about. Blonde-haired, and green eyes. Blondie, really cute girl. Rachel? No, wrong girl. Ra-- Oh. Rapunzel. Where is she now? I need to protect her from them.

More voices. “Knife wounds and blunt trauma, EMT were the first responders to a situation on Kings Street. It’s under police investigation now.”

My eyes opened and I saw hospital curtains all around me, encompassing me, veiling my vision, trapping me from the outside world. I felt angry. Who put me here? Why am I here? Then I remembered. The memories came flooding back. When I left that motel, some people jumped me, they had guns and knives. They were part of some sort of gang, tracking me down. There were too many. If not for the police, Rapunzel… I couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened.

The curtain opened and a pretty nurse surveyed me, her perfect eyes and face seemed more fit to be in a movie than in a hospital. The old me would’ve charmed her and hit up a conversation but I didn’t feel like my old self anymore. The only thing I could care about is my sunshine. I needed to know she was alright. I felt numb. Pain in my abdomen. Rapunzel’s stitches on my arm were healing. But oh how I needed her once more. I yearned for her soft delicate touch that juxtaposed the sharp stings of her sutures.

“Mr. Rider, you are injured,” a thin voice spoke out. It was an old doctor in a white robe, who entered the curtains as the nurse left.

“She’s waiting for me,” I protested.

“Who? Do you have family?”

 _Family? I wish._ My fingers grasped the metal railing of the bed. I needed to get out of this place.

“No family.”

I began to swivel my body, hoping to get out of the wretched bed.

“You are slightly under anesthesia right now. You have to recover from your injuries.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped.

“Before we continue Mr Rider, I am afraid we have to get some of your personal information. The hospital and local police station could not find any info about you.”

“No police.” I couldn’t risk them finding out about my criminal history long since buried.

“Why? Did you do something before you got these injuries?”

“Don’t remember…My sunshine. Rapunzel.”

“Your wife? Girlfriend?” he asked, his eyes brightening up, eagerly probing for more of my personal information.  
“I… don’t know where she is.” My mind raced and I could practically feel my brain grinding against my skull, trying to find that memory. What motel was it? What was the address?

“Did something happen to this Rapunzel? We can call the police and have them help you. To investigate.”

“NO POLICE,” I yelled, practically tearing a hole in my hyperventilating lungs. “I have to go now.”

I wondered if they could keep me here against my will. If I even had a will anymore. Being captive reminded him of the orphanage when I would run away every night only to be caught and forced back. Until eventually I ran away in the middle of the night until they could never find me again. That was freedom. I needed my freedom now.

“You must stay sir. You have no records.”

“I can’t stay. As a patient, I have the right to refuse treatment.”  
The doctor let out a deep sigh. “Very well. Take this and go to the billing office. You may retrieve your possessions there.”

He handed me a slip, with a staggering price of $2000. Before I could say a word, he escorted me out and I felt lost as if I was a child tossed into the ocean learning to swim for the first time. I felt a weight on my chest, choking me. I clutched the crumpled paper in my hand while bracing myself on the hospital walls, which seemed so narrow that I began to feel claustrophobic. How can I pay for this? I can’t go back to jail. I steeled myself and continued down the hall, thinking about Rapunzel, her words a few days ago echoing through my mind, “Eugene promise me one thing. Promise me that you will let me take care of you.” The irony was painful.

I banged my fist against the wall, “FUCK!” Why did I leave her? She needed me and I just left! I needed her. No, I would’ve been a burden. I have a criminal history and I’m a bum. She deserves more than me. My mind was racing and I couldn’t seem to quash the inner turmoil. A part of me wished that I can hold her in my arms once again, that I can feel her tender and caring touch. But with each touch there was guilt. Guilt that I held her back from her potential life. But with her skills and talent, she could surely find hundreds of guys better than me.

The passing nurses glanced at me, noticeable concern on their faces. It was then I noticed that I had bloodied my knuckles, staining the white wall with a bit of my hemoglobin. I couldn’t feel it as the pain of my heart dulled all else. When I arrived at the billing office, I received my satchel and phone back, the only two possessions I carried around. They had me sign thousands of forms, many of which were simple questions about my age and relationships, and many of which I left blank. But there was a problem when I left the address box empty. I haven’t had a home in so long, but they wouldn’t let me leave unless I paid the bill or gave an address to mail the bill to. I tried to rack my brain and scroll through my phone contacts for people I knew, but I kept drawing blanks until it hit me. An old friend of mine….

With a heavy heart and little choice, I wrote Address: 112410 Vardaros Rd; Name: Stalyan.

  
  
  
  



	10. Cassandra

Her long fingers traced the shelves filled with books, unsure of which Picaresque fiction to bury herself in. Maybe Don Quixote, or some works by Mark Twain…. While perusing the shelves with one hand, the other was fiddling with a comb engraved with _Flynn Rider_. Flynn Rider What was that name? Did Eugene know this Flynn Rider? Perhaps he was a friend during his time in the orphanage? Eugene told Rapunzel about his past; he told her how he used to have dreams of becoming wealthy and having a family, even as a hopeless orphan. When he told her this, she felt like she had taken a part of him with her, taken on some of that pain and loss. So when he left, that part of him was ripped from her with such force that she couldn’t help but cling on to any remnant of that broken past. Was it all a lie? Did he actually love her? But of course, he did. That night on the boat was proof. He was vulnerable and told her about his criminal history and his flaws. Or maybe it was just a ruse to lure her in before the ultimate betrayal. No, they kissed and she felt it. She knew he loved her and had hope that someday she can rekindle that love. So Rapunzel kept the comb with her wherever she went to remember Eugene, not daring to rid herself of the only hope she had. 

“Need help?” a soft whisper came from behind, seemingly out of nowhere. Rapunzel jumped a little, before recollecting herself, feeling a little embarrassed from overreacting to an old librarian. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry to bother you Mrs…” 

“Baker” 

“Mrs. Baker! I am looking for a book from this section. I’m looking for a long read.” 

Truth was, she needed an excuse to stay at Cassandra’s place and sleep on her sofa, even if that meant finishing a ridiculously long book. 

“I see you looked through almost all the classics… How about I go to the backroom to find one for you dear?” her soft voice cracked as joy tugged the corners of her mouth. 

Rapunzel couldn’t help but notice how passionate she was at her job. Though she never been to that library, she felt so… comfortable there. The quaintness of the one-story building matched the old woman’s timid conduct. “What kind of books do you like ?” Rapunzel was a very peculiar girl, or at least that’s what Eugene told her. _“Peculiar isn’t always bad Rapunzel. It just means you’re special, like a flower in the middle of a grassy field. My flower.”_ She was peculiar in her hobbies, from charting stars to painting to ventriloquism. She was peculiar in her social mannerisms and was the type of girl who would start an endless chat with a librarian just to have something to say. 

And so the two walked together, talking about love, life, and all of the above. When they reached the back, the librarian’s wrinkled fingers pulled out a hefty novel that made even a book-savvy girl like Rapunzel nervous. The blonde reached out to feel the cover of the old leather-bound book, which threatened to fall apart from its old age. It read _The Tales of Flynnigan Rider._

“Flynnigan Rider..?” Her eyebrows furrowed at the familiar name. Then it hit her. The comb. 

“Yes,” the librarian pointed at the comb that Rapunzel was holding between her thumb and forefinger. “I see you are a fan of this book. It’s a very well-written piece but sadly it has gone out of print many years ago and is becoming very hard to find.” 

“Thank you. It’s my..friend’s” she turned her face away as she felt her cheeks start to flush and her eyes start to swell. It has been a few weeks since the incident yet whenever she thought about him, she felt daggers pierce her heart. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to say that she never loved him. But it wasn’t true. She cried every night for a week after he was gone, hoping by some miracle she would wake up from her nightmare. Truly, she felt lost knowing that she let her dream out of her grasp. 

The librarian folded her hands in front of her and looked up at the taller girl with sympathetic eyes that seemed to read her like a book. “My dear,” the old lady said, placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Please tell me what’s wrong?” 

Surely a normal girl wouldn’t open up about her emotions and failed love life with a librarian she just met right? Well, not the peculiar Rapunzel. So the afternoon grew later and the conversation grew brighter. Laughter and tears were shared until the library lights shut off and the voice com announced closing time. Salutations were exchanged and Rapunzel made a mental note of the librarian’s hobbies, family members, pets, and even phone number. 

As she walked home, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat confused. She assumed “Flynn Rider” was merely a pseudonym, not the title of a book. Her confusion was mixed with sadness. The book only seemed to remind her of Eugene, his wonderful smile, and charming wit. Oh, what she would do for just another week with him. Just another day. Just another hour. 

As she went home, she tried not to cry but the tears managed to find ways to sneak out. People on the bus still seemed to stare at her and she felt even worse. She wanted to shrink and disappear, hide from everyone’s eyes. She hurried back to Cassandra’s apartment, her heart eagerly awaiting some solace in the contents hidden within the ragged old book. 

The door opened and Rapunzel was greeted by her friend, who was 4 years her elder, a girl with a jet black bob and a pair of piercing grey eyes. She was comforted by Cassandra’s authoritative yet soft gaze which filled her with the childhood fascination she had for the girl who was basically like her older sister. Yet, recently, she seemed to drift away from Rapunzel ever so slightly. After the incident with Eugene, she sought help from Cassandra who tried to ease her pain by calling Eugene all sorts of names for leaving her and gave her a stern lecture on a hundred, or was it a thousand, reasons to not trust men. It should’ve made her feel better but it didn’t. Cassandra felt different now, no longer the supporting sister figure she knew. Why couldn’t she understand her love for Eugene? Maybe they were just getting old. Despite the hundreds of times she told her story to strangers, more questions still floated in her head, Did he ever love me? Was I stupid and naive? Why do I miss him? but she could never bring herself to feel hatred towards Eugene. In many ways, Rapunzel was like a child who desperately clung to her beliefs. She still loved Eugene, and she began to finger the comb whenever she can as if holding it somehow brought her closer to him. 

“Rapunzel, you’re back so late! You usually spend a lot of time at the library but not hours! You ok?” her hand reached over to rub her friend’s shoulder, knowing full well that some contact-therapy was what she needed. “You’re crying Raps…” 

“I- I’m ok.” She sniffled. 

“Let’s go inside Raps.” She entered the apartment and all of a sudden she felt safe like Cassandra’s presence shielded her from all else. Without hesitation she fell onto the nearest couch, realizing that she was too tired to even stand. 

Cassandra reclined on the couch beside her friend and embraced her with an arm. “Tell me, what’s wrong?” 

“I’ve been thinking about what happened..” 

Cassandra’s face dropped and she was silent for a while. 

“Seriously? Raps, you need to get over him now. I thought we agreed that he was a big douchebag” 

“No, you know I don’t think that he is. I told you all about him. You know I love him.” 

“Love?” Her tone escalated. “What do you know about love Rapunzel?” Her words bit deep. 

Rapunzel felt a pain pierce her heart and she wanted to cry even more. But deep inside she felt something nasty, a feeling of anger. Anger that Cassandra can be so blatantly ignorant of her feelings. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so safe. 

“I know enough to say that he isn’t just any random boy I would fall in love with!” the blonde harshly rebuked. 

“You knew him for a few weeks at most Raps! He is nothing more than a fleeting girlish fantasy!” 

“No, that’s the problem Cassandra, YOU think he is. Why can’t you just be a good friend and understand me for one moment?!” 

“Because you’re so FUCKING naive Rapunzel! You know that not everything is a fantasy right? Not everything will work out!” Her tone began to rise, echoing through the empty house. 

Emotions began to stir inside of Rapunzel, emotions that she always kept suppressed since she was a young girl. Mother told her that it wasn’t ladylike to yell, scream, or throw a tantrum, that it wasn’t what she should do. Perhaps she was right. Truth be told, Rapunzel did not feel ladylike. She felt consumed by her anger “You realize Cassandra, that I’m not stupid right? Why do you always treat me like a kid?” 

“Because you still are one. You’re still the scared little girl you were when I met you. You were always scared of accepting the truth dammit. You can’t understand why someone would be mean to you. You can’t understand why someone would reject you. Why don’t you learn to stop being so optimistic? When would you realize this fantasy boy of yours never loved you!” 

With this, Rapunzel felt the last of her will fail her and she ran to the bathroom, her eyes filled with tears and her stomach turned. So she threw up in the toilet, heaving and choking on her sobs every so often. before long, she felt lethargic and her back leaned against the wooden door. Her hands tried to wipe the endless streams that poured from her swollen eyes but they kept coming. Cassandra was supposed to be there to support her, yet she took the knife that was in her heart and turned it., opening more wounds than she knew how to heal. 

Half an hour passed and there was a knock on the door. “Hey, Raps. I’m sorry.” 

There was no reply and the silence merely lingered like acid burning away at them both. 

“Rapunzel, the things I said…” she hesitated, slowly sliding her back down until she sat on the floor, leaning her back on the other side of the door of her friend. “I’m just jealous and maybe a little angry. After not seeing each other for a while and I guess instead of spending time with me you’re always talking about this boy…” They heard each other breathe a sigh of regret. 

Jealousy? Surely this couldn’t be the same Cassandra she knew. Regardless, Rapunzel heard the genuine concern in her voice, and it tugged at her heartstrings, pulling her to forgiveness. 

“I love you Cassandra and you know that. It’s just that I feel so lost and heartbroken right now. Can you just try to understand me?” Rapunzel ran her fingers through her hair and anxiously waited for her friend’s response. 

“Alright, Rapunzel. I should’ve never left you to deal with this alone… I should’ve been more supportive… maybe we can try to see if we can help you.. find him. Trust me Raps” 

Cassandra’s thoughts were interrupted by a lock click, and as the door opened, she stood to greet her swollen-eyed and teary girlfriend. Rapunzel held her head down and her hands were fidgeting in front of her. She was so cute and Cassandra hated seeing her so upset. It was like watching a puppy cry; it was unbearable. So she did what her instincts compelled her to do. 

As she embraced the younger girl, it reminded Cassandra of the times when they were children and she would soothe the young Rapunzel whenever she would get hurt. Rapunzel relished the hug, feeling the security and love of her surrogate older sister. “Still friends?” 

“Yes Raps. Forever.” 

As the two made up, Rapunzel found her eyes drawn to the book on the counter, the one that read, “The Tales of Flynnigan Rider” And for once, she felt hopeful. 

  
  
  
  



	11. Stalyan

Eugene paced around a good while in front of the mansion gate, nauseous from regret and maybe a bit of fear. He hadn’t seen Staylan in a while and yet he felt like his memories of her were as vivid as the moonlight that beamed down on him as he continued to mope around. Lately, his mind had been overwhelmed with all the possibilities and potential outcomes of his meeting with her, who no doubt still held a bitter grudge after their last… incident together. Her family was always on the shady side of the law, making money off of laundering and tax evasion. Sometimes they’d pay the police to keep quiet about their greater misdeeds. One thing that he learned about Mr. Barron and his daughter was that they were not a family to be swindled nor cheated. So it was no surprise that her father didn’t take it well when Eugene jilted Stalyan to start a new life for himself. Now that he’s coming back, Eugene began to question his sanity or perhaps his desperation. 

Then it occurred to him that his fear made him irrational, no longer the bold Flynn Ryder he used to be. If he wanted Stalyan to help, he had to act naturally. So, after calming his nerves he decided to press the bell. An automatic gate opened. Clearly it was meant for vehicles, not broke wandering men, because the uphill road curved into a driveway about 300 yards away. 

As he made his way closer to the large marble mansion, Eugene couldn’t help but realize how beautiful everything was, a decadent masterpiece flanked with vivid flowers, vines, and ornate garden decorations.  _ God, Rapunzel would love to draw this _ . 

Seeing all this made him feel so plebeian and worthless. No doubt it did not bolster his confidence. 

As he approached the door, it opened and he was greeted by a tall and rather old butler, whose balding head and twirly mustache screamed cliche. 

“Ah, Mr. Rider. It’s been a long time,” he announced with a stoic face. 

“Sorry, but do I know you, sir?” Eugene was taken aback. 

“No, but Master Barron and Mistress Stalyan do. In fact, you are quite a popular topic of conversation around here.” 

The thief swallowed a lump in his throat. “Um, well, yes. I'm here to speak with Stalyan” 

“Of course, since Master Barron isn’t home yet, I’ll take you to her.” 

Eugene sighed relief, glad he didn’t have to deal with the wrath of Mr. Barron. 

“Would you like me to take your err..coat?” 

It was then Eugene realized how dirty he was, his leather jacket scuffed and torn from the years of travel. 

“Yes, thank you.” 

The butler took the coat by his fingertips as if it was contaminated and placed it on the coat rack. 

As the two made their way down the hall, Eugene’s vivid memories of the place flooded in. There on the left was the dining room where he got drunk after a successful bank heist with Stalyan, and the ballroom on the right when he first… proposed to her. Thinking back on it made him angry that he was ever that kind of man, living off of lies and blood money. Yet he never seemed to regret Stalyan. Sure, he knew that leaving her before the marriage was what he wanted, but that didn’t mean his feelings for her all of a sudden disappeared. She saved him many times before whether it was an accidental run-in with the law or with a rival gang. He trusted her and she trusted him during a time when trust was a very valuable commodity. But eventually, he wasn’t sure he wanted to involve himself with her ignoble family and all the evil things they did that were vile even by his own standards. 

“You seem very unsure of yourself Mr. Rider—“ 

“Fitzherbert.” 

“Excuse me?” His bushy gray eyebrows perked up. 

“I go by Fitzherbert now,” Eugene cleared his voice as Stalyan’s room neared. 

“Well then, Mr. Fitzherbert.” He stopped in front of a large wooden door. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

Thanks to Rapunzel’s mini-lessons, he noticed the details of the large ornate Baroque door that stood in front of him. He found himself taken aback by the gravity of the situation. If he went in there and Stalyan didn’t forgive him… he reached for his neck and felt his stomach clench. 

Yet before he could steel himself, the door opened in front of him and there she was. Her slim figure filtered the moonlight that bled through the undraped windows enough for him to get a long glimpse of her. Her delicate but fierce face was bent into a scowl, scarier than any ruffian on the street, but oh so damn attractive. 

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” Her words bit into him. 

Eugene mustered up a devilish smile. “I’m here for you my beautiful, and because I need your help Stalyan. I want to apologize for all that I have wronged you.” 

“Cut the bullshit Flynn, you know what you did. You left me on the day of the wedding!” She turned away. 

“Everyone makes mistakes Stalyan. I’ve come back a changed man. I— I have come clean now and I just need a bit of support.” He approached her as a wolf approaches its prey, careful not to make a wrong move. He needed this to work, he needed that money. 

“How dare you? Am I just a mistake to you? I loved you, Flynn!” Tears flowed out her eyes and she ran her frustrated fingers through her fiery red-brown hair. 

“You know I loved you, and I still do.” Memories of Rapunzel flashed through his mind and he felt a pang of guilt stab his diaphragm. “But the things your father did. It didn’t sit well with me.” 

“My family? You’re a criminal! We took you in when you were petty thief on the streets! I was willing to marry a poor scoundrel like you because I loved you!” She was leaning against a dressing table, the tears dropping from her face onto the wooden tabletop with an audible  _ plop.  _

“But the deaths and murders that your family hid! You were just fine with that? How can I marry into a family that hides assassinations and murders for money? I am a criminal but maybe there are some lines I just can’t cross!” 

“SHUT UP RIDER! You always play with my emotions. Not anymore!” Her hand opened a drawer and pulled out a knife. 

“Stalyan, please,” he reasoned. “I’m no longer Flynn Rider. I’ve come clean now. I’m Eugene Fitzherbert. Maybe I wasn’t the right man for you but that didn’t mean it was easy for me to leave.” 

“No! FUCK YOU RIDER. YOU LIAR, CHEATING BASTARD!” She lunged at him with the blade, and he dodged it, falling backward onto a futon. He couldn’t get up in time before she attacked him again, this time plunging the knife straight down over his head, but before it landed, he blocked her attack with the base of his forearm. 

“Please Stalyan, let’s talk this through.” 

The knife fell and hit the floor with a loud metallic clink. Stalyan was hysterical, falling on top of Eugene, limp and sobbing as she clung onto him. 

He gently lifted her teary face to eye level with him. “I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. You deserve a better man. You must understand that I am no longer the same person you once knew.” 

Her eyelashes fluttered and he felt a renewed lust emerge from his loins as she laid on top of him, their faces practically touching. He felt the same love he had for her years ago, but he knew it was wrong. No, he couldn’t. Rapunzel. 

As he began to pull his head away, her lips thrust onto his and the fire that began to smolder suddenly burst into flames as his primal instincts swamped his judgment. Her hands were on his body, not innocent like Rapunzel’s. No, she knew his weaknesses, his soft spots, and his pleasures. He felt powerless under this spell of lust as his hands gravitated towards her curves. As he reached for her brassiere, Rapunzel flashed through his mind and he felt his fingers seize. This wasn’t right but he couldn’t control himself for long. His clothing came off soon and so too did hers. Their bodies were intertwined in a guilty symphony of erotic intimacy. The nighttime euphoria lingered until she fell asleep beside him, with Eugene as broken-hearted as he was before. Before the crickets began to chirp, he put on his clothes and grabbed a bundle of cash from her dresser. He left through the window of the mansion and ran until the guilt dragged him down. He cried and cried until he couldn’t cry anymore. And as he fell beside an alleyway dumpster, he couldn’t help but feel like that was where he belonged. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Fitzherbert

It was autumn now yet the winter chill seemed to have come early. I shivered as I wrapped myself deeper in my blanket. Thoughts of that bittersweet summer still stuck in my mind. The warmth, the smell of the lake, the beautiful mountains. Outside, the city bustled as the hundreds of lights dotted the darkness of the night. There was no green, no autumn oranges or yellows, just grey concrete, and grey smog. I closed the blinds, forcing those intrusive thoughts away. I couldn’t concentrate, and apparently neither could Pascal, who hopped onto the windowsill and desperately clawed at the already-worn blinds with his paws. 

My apartment wasn’t much to look at from the outside, just another dingy place in your average Brooklyn neighborhood. But it has been my home ever since I was old enough to move out of my foster parents’ house. The last 18 years were a blur, but the thoughts of my childhood lingered. But I ran away from her. I was strong. I felt safe here, shrouded by the bustle and noise of the streets and the paintings that cluttered the makeshift art-studio-apartment. 

My fingers traced the letters on the keyboard,  _ -Eugene- _ and Facebook loaded with 1000+ results, from Eugene Smiths to Eugene Churchills. But not Eugene,  _ my  _ Eugene. The train rumbled by, the damped noise reverberating through the room. _ Come on, concentrate Rapunzel.  _

_ -Eugene Springfield Colorado- _ Nothing. 

Pascal gave a lazy meow and looked at me with doubtful cat-eyes as if telling me to sleep instead. 

The tragedy was that even after all that time, I didn’t know his full name. I felt a pang of guilt at the thought of still being on a first-name basis. If only I had asked, cared to learn more about him instead of just letting him slip through my fingers. 

I raked my mind again until it dawned on me. The comb. - _ Flynn Rider-  _ The results came up mostly as mere advertisements or study guides on the classic adventure novel.  _ But  _ a few obscure news articles popped up. One, in particular, caught my eye.  _ Fatal armed robbery in downtown Bronx by the notorious Stabbingtons and accomplice, under the alias Flynn Rider. Stabbingtons arrested, Flynn Rider wanted.  _

I froze.  _ What?  _ This can’t be him. My fingers were motionless on the keyboard as I tried to process everything. That day when he held me so gingerly on the boat was a memory that continued to linger like it was yesterday. Those hands that guided me and taught me to love were not the hands of a criminal. 

But how would I know who he was? How many pseudonyms had he gone by? 

The text cursor was blinking on the screen as the harsh blue light continued to glow in the dim room. My eyes hovered over the text. The Bronx? Did he use to live in New York? 

I sat back on my seat, hoping, praying that the thumping of my heart was just in my head. Everyone told me to forget about him, that it was naive to believe in love. Logically, they were right. A week isn’t enough to fall in love, to be so invested that it becomes an obsession. Yet I couldn’t shake the thought of Eugene possibly being a figment of my imagination or just another dream that my mind fancied. That note. He didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to leave. They were surely forbidden lovers meant to be together. But who exactly did she love? She hardly knew anything about his past. Who was Flynn Rider? Who was Eugene before he was Eugene? 

Answers. I need answers. There was nothing else on the elusive Flynn Rider but a few news stories about this event that happened years ago. I gripped my hair, feeling the brittleness of my dirty-blonde locks. Maybe it was the stress or just the fact that I’d been letting it grow long and unkempt, but I seriously needed to take better care of myself. 

A phone buzzed, and the room was lit with the white light from the phone. It was Cassandra. 

_ Raps, you up? ~Yeah Wyd rn? ~I’m just studying for that history midterm The one that’s in a month? Girl, its 11 get to sleep ~Yeah, just want to be extra prepared that’s all Raps, u been worrying me. Ur always up so late. ~Im fine, srsly. Just been busy thats all I just wanted to let u know that ill always be there if u need help with anything ~thx Cass, ik u always got my back.  _

By the time I arrived at the police station, it was dark and quiet, the only chatter coming from the few police officers outside the entrance, smoking, chatting, or just standing guard. Inside the station, there was a metal detector, flanked by a stout officer and a comically lanky one. The screening process was a pain as they spent far too long analyzing my knapsack filled with dangerous art supplies, notebooks, and a laptop. 

I made my way to the Records Department, where metal bars separated me from an officer who was nodding off in his sleep. 

“Mister,” I called to no response. 

I debated about tapping on the bars but I decided against it on the account of it not being the best way to initiate a conversation. 

“Huh? Yeah what do you need?” he rubbed his eyes. 

“I want to see if you have any records about a fugitive, who goes by the alias Flynn Rider” 

He shot me a dirty eye as if asking why I woke him up to have him dig through some dusty files. I almost felt sorry too until I realized that that was his job, which only kindled my anger. “Yeah, I’ll check.” He left for a back room, and after ten minutes he approached holding a paper folder, labeled Flynn Rider. 

“Not a lot on this guy,” he started, sifting through the sparsely populated file. “Just a few minor larcenies and...,” he paused. “An armed robbery and manslaughter. Yeah, this guy’s been on the run for a while.” 

“Does he go by any other names?” I pressed, hoping to gain some confirmation that it was not Eugene. “Any descriptions?” 

“No pictures, photographs, nothing girl,” he scanned the document. “He’s linked with another fugitive by the alias of Lance Strongbow.” 

“Lance Strongbow? Tell me about him,” 

“Look, miss it’s gonna take a while for me to dig up his file.” 

I leaned forwards on the bars as my eyes locked into his, my brows furrowing. I was not in the mood at all. “I have all night.” 

He let out a sigh, not bothering to say anything. After another while, the officer came out with another folder. “Let’s see… Lance Strongbow… left the orphanage at the age of 12, ran with Flynn Rider a while and-” 

“Orphanage? What orphanage?” I interjected. 

“It says here the Downtown Manhattan Orphanage.” 

The next morning I arrived at the orphanage. It was a dingy place, a place that felt the way it looked and looked the way it felt. Oddly enough, the halls were mostly empty and few children were in sight. The children that were visible looked miserable, their only solace being the company they kept with the other orphans. It was enough to break a heart. 

It was a miserable place greened from mildew and worn from neglect. There was no laughter, no giggles, no life. Only the echoes of rubber soles on the tiled floor. 

The headmistress’ office wasn’t exactly pleasant either. The room was a somber hue of purple which matched the headmistress’s dark outfit. She stood a shoulder taller than me, despite her older age, and that only made her more intimidating as she gazed out the gothic window onto the city below, her back turned towards me.   
“Ma’am,” I started as I knocked on the oak door. 

“Enter.” 

“Good morning ma’am, I’ve come to ask about a child from this orphanage.” 

Her face turned towards me as her body followed suit in such a stern fashion that I held my breath. “Miss... Rapunzel is it?” her voice was thin but surprisingly, projected loudly. 

“Yes, I was the one who called earlier, and I -” 

“What’s there to ask? The kids here are from similar backgrounds, drunk parents, divorces gone wrong, the usual,” she said nonchalantly. 

“Yes, but I came here to ask if you have any records of a child named Eugene a while back.” 

“Eugene? That’s not very specific.”   
“Do you know anything of a Flynn Rider?” I probed again. 

Her eyes opened wide before her lips rose into an amused grin. “Ah, Eugene Fitzherbert. An interesting boy he was. Very troublesome. Always reading that Flynngan Rider novel to the other kids and whaddya know? Just ran off one day with another child. A lot of paperwork after that. They never did find him.” 

“Do you know anything about him? Maybe some records about his parents?” 

“Why do you care? Why would anyone care about these children?” 

I was taken aback by that statement. “How could you say that?! Don’t you realize that the orphans here are just as human as you and I?” 

“These children are as nameless as the sand on a beach, each drifting on and off the shore without a history. We pride ourselves in picking these kids off the streets like cleaning…” she waved her slender fingers by her hip, “...trash off the sidewalks”. 

I felt anger rising in my chest. All I could think about were the children that were unfortunately stuck in this dreadful prison like I was. I was told I was nothing by my own birth mother, just trash to be hidden from society.. Like these kids, I had no past, no knowledge of my father. But I was lucky to run away and start a new life, a luxury that these poor kids didn’t have. The headmistress was a miserable woman and I felt sorry that the children of this orphanage had to live under her. “You don’t deserve to run this place,” the words slipped from my mouth so quickly I didn’t have time to think them through. 

A terrifying cackle rang from her withered lips. “Then who does? If not for me, if not for this orphanage, these kids would be dead on the streets. At least here, they have food, shelter.” 

“They aren’t animals, they need love and care. That’s what an orphanage should be, a home.” 

“And where would we get this love? Do you think this place is understaffed and worn on purpose? Where would we get the funds? You’re too naive Rapunzel. Either these kids live here until they start their own lives or run off. Either way, it's not up to me or you. It’s just life.” 

“I hope one day you’ll see that you can make a difference,” I scathed. 

“If you are done, you may leave. I’m afraid I am not in the mood for you to tell me how to run my orphanage and I do not believe I have anything more to add about the boy. Make sure to close the door when you exit, don’t want the heat to escape.” 

I slammed the door and left, forcing myself not to look at the orphans. Outside, the sky was grey and the rain began to fall. I made my way down the block, repeating the name in my head over and over again. Eugene Fitzherbert. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. Memories

I was on television. That day when I was attacked, jumped by those gang members. Headlines detailing the harrowing incident, gang members associated with the Stabbingtons involved in an organized attack. It was a warning. I felt queasy.

I ran my fingertips across the scar tissue along my abdomen, which had not healed as well as I had hoped, despite the exorbitant bill that they charged Stalyan on my behalf. Chills went down my back as the name Stabbingtons appeared on the headlines. Those familiar names brought back vivid memories that I tried to push back into the recesses of my mind. It was because of them I couldn’t be with Rapunzel. No, it was Because of me. Because of what I had done. That night felt like yesterday. 

The dusk lingered over me like a bad aura and my feet dragged behind me as I strolled down the avenue, hands in my pockets and my face shrouded by a hood. I tried to warm my fingers that were numb from the cold. The wind blew down my neck, dampening my movement.  _ Fuck this.  _

It was the kind of overcast winter night that left everything pitch black, from potholes to the black ice that littered the streets. It was the type of night that forced one to be alert, clinging to their purses, and wallets in fear of a shady figure exiting an equally shady alleyway. A night like this made the average person nervous. But not Flynn Rider. This night was just perfect for someone like him. 

My senses sharpened as I approached the deli, where the dim light feebly bled through the murky-green windows onto the empty asphalt parking lot in front. my eyes scanned around, noticing every detail from the broken glass that littered the curb to the chipped paint that surrounded the facade of the worn shop. The closer I got to the entrance, the more I slowed, as if I was a vampire afraid of the light.  _ Get it together.  _

I took a few deep breaths, letting the crisp frigid air circulate inside my lungs. I fingered the item in my pocket, feeling the metal grooves and varnished wood as best I can with frozen fingers. I stood there as I rehearsed the plan in my head, buying more time before the inevitable. 

The glass door creaked open and a welcome bell rang as I entered, startling me a bit.  _ Calm the fuck down, Flynn.  _

It was a quaint store empty except for the cashier behind the counter. He was an average middle-aged man whose stubble and rounded belly gave him an unkempt look. The man was reading a newspaper, paying no attention to me or anything else for that matter.  _ Perfect.  _ I walked beside the shelves stocked with chips and groceries, pretending to look for an item I didn’t come for. I readied my facemask before approaching the middle-aged man, my heart threatening to fracture my rib cage. The man was still reading the paper and didn’t notice me until I uttered the fateful words. Never before had I seen such fear, shock, and confusion in a man reduced from the indifference of mid-life to the terror of a child. My M9 pointed at the poor soul, the sights fixed on his forehead, exposed by his receding hairline. 

“Money. Now.” The words escaped my mouth with a hesitant but assertive timbre. “Please!” the man pleaded, his hands clasped together in front of his torso. “Are you deaf?” I lifted the pistol up to the man’s head, but my arm was shaking, and the metal suddenly felt heavier. 

“I have a family-” the cashier began to sob as he reached for the cash register. 

The man was a pathetic thing, old and worn from years of neglect and laziness, crying like a baby in front of me. I couldn’t find it in myself to be angry at the poor fool. He was more of a man than me, with a life to live and a family to support. It was hard to rationalize what I was doing, but surely he could do without a few bucks. I needed to eat too.    
“NOW!” I roared, hoping that screaming would somehow quell the inner turmoil I felt. 

The sobbing cashier held up a stack of trembling 20 dollar bills. “Please,” he pleaded one more time. 

As if my will failed me, I dropped my shaking arm.  _ I can’t do this  _ Memories of my childhood flooded into my mind: bullying, harassment, robbery even. I knew the fear in the man’s pathetic eyes. I was weak then but I chose to be more than that. I chose to be Flynn Rider. I chose to run away and start a new life and to be an honorable man that people would admire, not tremble in fear. The axioms of my ideal life and the graveness of my circumstance dawned on me. But it was too late. A quick motion, almost too quick to register in my mind. A hand reached for the gun, and a struggle ensued. my thoughts failed me and my emotions became a blur of confusion and panic. I was stronger though, and in a manner of time, the tides of the battle turned. There was yelling and screaming, cuss words were thrown to and fro. The mental haze that fogged my mind cleared as soon as I heard the gunshot and felt the feeble thud of a body hit the floor. 

“No...” an almost inaudible whimper came from my mouth. My finger was locked onto the trigger and my hand held onto the grip like a vice. 

At that moment, my world crashed down upon me and I felt as though none of it was real. But it was real. The gun was real. The gunshot was real. The sweat that drenched me was real. The blood was real. 

The cashier’s cold bloodshot eyes were glazed and locked into a thousand-yard stare at the ceiling as if he was wondering why he had to be taken so early from this world. Why did he have to leave his family so soon as a victim of petty crime? His eyes judged me even from beyond the grave. 

The glass broke from behind as two red-haired Stabbington twins entered, grabbing as much cash and valuables as they can from the store, chuckling while they were at it. 

“Nice job Rider, I knew we could count on you.” 

“I didn’t fucking sign up for this shit! I fucking murdered this man for god sake!” 

“Cut the shit Rider. We had a deal. Wait for us in the car and we’ll get outta here before the cops get here.” 

I made my way to the car. It was then the familiar blare of police sirens echoed down the street. The sound got louder as I turned the ignition key. Blue and red flashes lit up the dark shadows. 

I glanced through the passenger window, at the Stabbingtons frantically bolting out the door. As the weight of my guilt crumbled on me, I no longer felt the fear of betraying them. I became deaf to the ringing of the sirens and numb to the innocent life taken by my hands. All I knew was that I no longer wanted this. Any part of this. 

“Rider!” they called, as my car sped away. “You’ll pay for this!” their voices petered down. 

As sounds of sirens closed in, empty-handed and heavy-hearted, I left them behind to reap the consequence of my crime. My murder. 

  
  
  
  
  



	14. Homecoming

Every day was like an endless string of anxiety haunting me, not so much because of my fear of being discovered again, but by the lingering guilt that clouded my rationality. Like a hazy mist, I recollected part of the events that happened that night. After leaving Rapunzel, I was attacked by someone, some people. I wanted to throw up, knowing that Rapunzel was so close to danger, that it was my fault the Stabbington gang were onto me. Even before the attack, I was on the news, a blurry silhouette of a man running alongside a woman, from a bunch of thugs that were harassing a poor woman just minutes before. No doubt the cops picked up the long-dead trail of my past alias Flynn Rider, only for the Stabbingtons to resurface along with them like phantoms from a past life. I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Still, how could I be so stupid and careless knowing that Rapunzel would’ve been collateral damage? 

A crash startled me, and I jumped a bit off my seat. I stole a glance at the waitress who stood in the middle of the airport diner, picking up shards of a broken plate, no doubt the source of the aforementioned noise. A slightly heavyset man walked up to her, a scowl on his face. “You stupid bitch, this plate is coming off your pay.” 

I tried to ignore him, knowing that the last thing I needed was to break my anonymity for naught despite the fact that I could’ve easily mopped the floor with that dickhead. I resumed my concentration on the menu that had sat in front of me for the past 10 minutes. Rapunzel would’ve liked this kinda stuff, a long list of colorful pastries decorated only to be eaten. The more I thought about Rapunzel, the more it hurt, like a pang of regret that was compounded by hindsight. Fuck it. I wasn’t hungry anyway. 

A waitress in a skirt approached my table, noticeably distracted by the drama that unfolded with the plates. “Have you decided what you want sir?” 

“I’ll just have a hot coffee, milk and sugar. That’s all.” I answered. 

Her eyebrows drew together as if she was annoyed to have waited 10 minutes for a simple order. Though, she tried to hide it with a red-lipped smile that felt as phony as the plastic flowers that decorated the place. 

The coffee was pretty stale, somehow managing to be too bitter and too watery at the same time. The smell was more reminiscent of soggy cardboard than actual coffee beans though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it at least a little. It reminded me of New York, where coffee and bagels were freshly brewed and toasted for less than a buck. Perhaps it was nostalgia or my nerves feeling knotted but I never realized how much I missed caffeine until now. 

The atmosphere of the airport diner fell to a lull, snapping me out of the chaos in my head that all of a sudden felt out of place. I placed a fairly decent tip on the table, slipping it under the half-empty cup of Joe and made my way back out to the tall windows and waxed floors of the airport. Needless to say, the price of airport coffee wasn’t exactly cheap and my pockets felt a bit lighter after that pricey cup of Joe. Truth be told, it was at least worth it to kill some time before boarding was scheduled to start. It was safer to be as inconspicuous as possible even though getting through the airport security was surprisingly easy even with a fake ID and passport. I felt my stomach knot at the possibility of someone recognizing me. 

* * *

The bathroom was my next stop, after realizing that the stomach knot might’ve been indigestion. The doctor said to wait for my wounds to heal but the only side effect I seemed to notice is constant nausea and loss of appetite. 

“You okay there buddy?” I turned my attention to the man next to me, who seemed concerned about why I was throwing up into a urinal. “Indigestion.” 

“That’s rough buddy,” he remarked, as he went back to his business. 

The mirrors were dirty, but even looking into them, I could see that I wasn’t in my best shape. My hair was a mess and my facial hair was long overdue for a shave, not to mention I seemed… just out of it. I instinctively reached for my comb, only to realize I had given that away to Rapunzel as a sort of parting gift. The more I thought about Rapunzel, the more sickly I felt, more so because I had no way to contact her, though that was for her sake. It would be better if she didn’t fall in love with a wanted criminal living a double life. And I had convinced myself that getting Rapunzel’s phone number would’ve only made it harder for me to let go. Still, I yearned to tell her that I still thought about her and wanted to love her again even if it was not meant to be. 

_Boarding at gate 5A from Salt Lake City to New York City will be starting promptly._ The announcements blared overhead. That was my cue. 

* * *

I felt out of place as I waited my turn for boarding, surrounded by eager tourists waiting to travel to see Times Square and disgruntled men in suits who were headed back to work in the city after a beautiful summer. I, on the other hand, was a wanderer no different than before. Though now I was a wanted man yet again, running back to the place of my childhood, the city that was shared by Rapunzel. I wish I had told her that I born in New York City, a slick troublemaker who knew the five boroughs like the back of my hand. But that wouldn’t exactly be true. That was Flynn Rider, not Eugene Fitzherbert. Flynn Rider was a criminal with no future. Eugene Fitzherbert was a man with a dream that was replaced by a woman he never should’ve met and never should’ve loved. A broken man, trapped in the irony of returning to the place he had once shed his alter-ego because he needed to escape the police and the Stabbington gang, or perhaps because a small part of him wanted to see Rapunzel one more time. 

“Sir, may we see your boarding pass and passport please?” the stewardess asked, holding out her hand. 

I handed her my documents and bit my tongue, knowing that this was the last hurdle before I was free and I couldn’t afford any hiccups. Her mascara eyes scanned me up and down for what felt like an eternity. Her round face and nubile facial features would’ve seemed attractive if not for her piercing eyes that made my stomach knot as she examined the validity of the Eugene Fitzherbert printed on the passport. 

“Thank you, Mr. Fitzherbert, please make your way on board.” I felt a weight lift off my chest, as I continued to follow along the stream of commuters, keeping my head down to look as inconspicuous as possible. 

It was a window seat, next to a mother and her young child, who seemed intrigued by everything around him like it was his first flight. 

The woman tapped on my shoulder. “I heard that Rockefeller Center has its ice rink open this time of the year.” 

“Oh yeah?” I feigned interest. 

“Yeah, my son loves ice skating and I was just hoping to take him sightseeing at the Big Apple. It’s a lovely city but I just don’t think I could take all that hustle and bustle 24/7 ya know?” she chuckled, oblivious to her son rummaging through her unattended purse. 

“Yup. Never liked that about the city.” It was true. Growing up in bad parts of the town, it was hard to experience the bustle living the other side of the law, amidst the quiet nights in Harlem instead of the busy mornings of Wall Street. 

“Oh, you’re from New York?” she seemed suddenly more animated. 

“Used to be,” I shifted in my seat. 

“I see. Why did you leave?” 

“Just got sick of it I guess.” I watched as the runway moved, feeling my stomach grumble as the airplane began to speed up gradually. Almost instantaneously the turbulence stopped as the plane took off, gradually rising above the relatively small city. The buildings and cars faded below the wispy clouds and I felt my ear pop. My stomach was turning and my chest felt tight with anxiety and anticipation. I never did like flying. 

  
  



End file.
